Chapter 70: An Unexpected Incident

Over the next half month, the central army advanced with unstoppable momentum, annihilating countless goblin and kobold clans. The entire operation went unexpectedly smoothly; aside from the low-level monster tribes, not a single trace was found of any medium or high-level monster clans.

In the logistics camp, the clerk was numbly tallying a pile of goblin and kobold left ears. At the same time, an endless stream of monster ears continued to arrive.

“Some are worked to death, others idle away,” Viren sighed, continuing to lounge leisurely atop a flat cart strewn with straw, supervising from his post.

Since the military action began, Muira, seeing Viren’s idleness in the logistics camp, assigned him the job of overseer to keep him from growing too bored.

After finishing a round of ear counting, a clerk approached Viren to report, “Sir, tally complete: one thousand three hundred twenty-seven goblins, eight hundred sixty-nine kobolds. No deception—the numbers are genuine and all are professional combatants.”

“If that’s all, then bag them up, mark each with the unit’s tag, and store them in the back,” Viren said, taking the register offered with both hands and tucking it into his pocket, waving the clerk off.

“Yes, sir.” The clerk withdrew, swiftly directing the others to continue the work.

In contrast to Viren’s relaxed mood, the atmosphere inside the knights’ central tent was grave. The commander of the Sixteenth Knight Regiment, Madmonch, flipped through the report in his hands, his expression growing increasingly serious. The officers beneath him, seeing their commander’s face, all sat upright—gone were their usual ease and informality.

“Such a vast area, fully one hundred thousand square kilometers, all goblin and kobold clans, not a single silver-rank or above among them.” Madmonch closed the report, muttering to himself.

“Commander, I fear there’s some plot brewing in the Ash-Gleam Wasteland. We must report to the higher-ups immediately,” said the first-ranking middle-aged man seated to his left.

“Theodore, if I recall, the last monster incursion along the western border was caused by stray dragons clashing, forcing monster tribes to repeatedly assault the western defenses,” replied the first-ranking middle-aged man on the right, rising from his seat.

“Yes, commander. The royal investigative team concluded as much after their inquiry,” he affirmed.

Suddenly, a silver knight burst into the tent, kneeling on one knee and reporting loudly, “Commander, a griffin knight has arrived!”

“Quick, let him in,” Madmonch said urgently, a foreboding sense gripping him.

Outside the tent, most of the silver-ranked extraordinary, including Viren, watched the descending griffin knight, sensing that something momentous was about to happen.

In the borderlands, griffin knights were never used as messengers unless absolutely necessary—a tacit rule everyone knew.

“Muira, do you know what’s happening?” Viren approached Muira, watching the griffin knight head toward the command tent, his voice grave.

“I don’t know yet, but it seems these idle days are coming to an end,” Muira replied, shaking her head.

Inside the tent, the griffin knight first saluted Madmonch respectfully, then produced a memory stone, placing it in the center of the tent, and inserted a low-grade magic crystal as its power source.

“Madmonch, I am Jerome Latin, Governor of the Lensa Province and Supreme Commander of the Western Defensive Line. Tens of thousands of monsters are assaulting the Lensa-Ist-Dani provincial defenses. You are hereby ordered to lead your elite forces via the Cadro Province teleportation array to immediate reinforcement. This command bears the king’s royal approval.”

A white-bearded elder, radiating authority without anger, pronounced the order.

Madmonch rose and saluted, pounding his chest. “Yes, sir.”

As the magic crystal’s energy depleted, the memory stone’s image faded.

The griffin knight carefully packed away the memory stone and saluted, “Sir, I must proceed to the next destination. I take my leave.”

“Very well.”

Once the griffin knight departed, Madmonch looked around and issued his orders: “Send word to the left and right armies—everyone is to assemble here by noon tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir!” the officers answered loudly, then withdrew.

By afternoon, the entire camp was bustling at a pace visible to the naked eye.

That night, Flora entered Muira’s tent, removed her helmet, and set it casually atop the wooden chest beside her.

“Flora, what is my father’s plan?” Muira finished her prayers, rose, and looked at her friend, worry etched across her face.

“The commander’s plan is rather complicated,” Flora replied, moving to Muira’s bedside, stretching out on the bed with her eyes closed.

Muira climbed onto the bed, kneeling at the head, resting Flora’s head on her lap and gently massaging her temples.

“So, is the plan for the entire knight regiment to reinforce the Lensa-Ist-Dani provincial defenses, leaving the noble armies to guard against monster raids from the Ash-Gleam Wasteland?”

Flora felt an unprecedented relaxation and shifted to a more comfortable position, answering unhurriedly, “No.”

“Then what is it?” Muira pressed.

“The commander’s plan is to leave all knight apprentices and ordinary logistics personnel behind, while the battle units and priests will merge into elite noble armies and travel light.”

Muira frowned. “So my father intends to have the remaining noble troops and knight regiment members defend against monsters from the Ash-Gleam Wasteland?”

“That’s correct,” Flora confirmed.

“But if—if this is a diversion, then are we abandoning Cadro Province?” Muira asked anxiously.

“Vice Commander Theodore and many others raised this concern, but the commander persuaded us,” Flora shifted her head upward as she spoke.

“This can’t be right. If all high-level forces are withdrawn, should monsters attack, the million people of Cadro Province would be left exposed to danger. I must go and convince him.”

Muira sprang to her feet.

“Ow!” Flora rubbed the back of her head, then grabbed Muira as she tried to leave. “Don’t go. The commander is under immense pressure—this was a forced decision.”

“Think about it. If the Lensa-Ist-Dani defensive line falls, then hundreds of millions in the west will be exposed to threats. At that point, the legendary powerhouses of the Ash-Gleam Wasteland will definitely intervene.”

“So you’re just going to abandon these million people?” Muira’s gaze met Flora’s, who silently nodded.

“You… you all…”

“That’s why I requested to stay,” Flora interrupted, smiling. “For the greater good, the commander had no choice, but I can remain.”

“The Lensa-Ist-Dani line doesn’t lack ordinary fighters—it needs the commander and the fully formed knight regiment,” she explained.

“Then I’ll—”

“You can’t stay,” Flora sat up, meeting Muira’s eyes with solemnity. “As a silver-ranked priest, your role is vital. With you, far fewer knights will die.”